


(One Man's) Trash

by Anonymous



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Crack, Identity Porn, M/M, Mistaken Identity, or maybe not it's hard to tell
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-21
Updated: 2020-11-21
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:28:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27661367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Peter emerges from a dumpster to discover Tony Stark (not) trying to buy a blowjob from him. As first meetings with your idol go, it's not ideal, and then Peter bravely manages to make a bad situation worse.
Relationships: Peter Parker/Tony Stark
Comments: 24
Kudos: 121
Collections: Anonymous





	(One Man's) Trash

Peter realizes he doesn't look exactly neat - no one does when picking an outfit for dumpster diving, and especially not after the third slip on a rotting vegetable peel - but it's still a hit on his self-esteem when he pulls himself up to the edge of the container and looks down, and instead of a dirty and very much empty alleyway, he's greeted by the sight of Tony Stark looking as pristine as if he'd just been taken out of the box, and the aforementioned vision that is Tony Stark says:

"Hey, kid, how would you like to earn an easy hundred?"

Peter sort of just gapes at him, wondering if he breathed in some funny fumes again.

Mr. Stark keeps looking expectantly at Peter for about five more seconds, after which his face switches to boredom with whiplash-inducing speed.

"I'd offer more, but a hundred is all the cash I have on me. Unless you got a card reader in there?"

A small part of Peter's brain, the one always worrying about money, gets into gear for long enough to order his mouth to blurt out:

"What are you trying to pay me for, exactly?"

Mr. Stark's face says that explanations should be unnecessary, but he's willing to magnanimously give one anyway, just this once. It's a very expressive face.

"To pretend to give me a blowjob against a wall. Any wall in the vicinity. I leave the choice entirely to you. I also need to take pictures with a drone. The paparazzi are so unreliable."

Peter blinks down at him. Mr. Stark rolls his neck like he's starting to get a neck cramp, and things start occurring to Peter. One, Mr. Stark is really here. Two, he seems to think Peter's a homeless prostitute, or at least a homeless someone not opposed to simulating sex acts by urine-soaked walls, in public. Three, it's _simulated_ sex acts, and really, what's up with that?

"Why do you want me to pretend to, uh-" Peter blushes and gestures vaguely. Very vaguely. Not descriptively at all.

"Long story. Now are we in business? Because I'm starting to feel like Romeo, and unless you're about to jump the balcony for what I'm offering, I'm about to go looking for a different Juliet in the next ten seconds."

That makes Peter scramble to get out of the dumpster. Crazy situation notwithstanding, he wants to keep talking to _Tony Stark_ for as long as possible. He lands less gracefully than he normally would post-bite, pulls down his t-shirt which has risen up, wondering whether he really does have something gross on his face or if it's just false anxiety speaking, and catches Mr. Stark looking at him strangely.

"Tell you what," Mr. Stark says. "I'll throw in a good meal to sweeten the pot."

Which is how Peter ends up having doners with Mr. Stark at a little Turkish joint around the corner.

Mr. Stark watches Peter swallow three in quick succession and practically tuck the fourth one in his cheeks, hamster style, before sliding the crisp banknote towards Peter silently.

Peter looks at Mr. Stark, than at the money, than back at Mr. Stark, feeling his face heat up and wondering how to mention that he's ok, that he has a home and a responsible adult to feed him, he's just become a bottomless food pit after he mutated into a sort of, almost, aspiring superhero. Mr. Stark twitches the note on the tabletop like he thinks Peter is a cat that needs the encouragement to pounce on its new toy.

"No strings attached," Mr. Stark says, not even looking at Peter but out of the window. It makes the whole thing feel like an awkward spy movie exchange, but it's probably Mr. Stark trying to make Peter feel less self-conscious about taking charity. A strange spot of warmth starts growing out of the knot of embarrassment, shyness and confusion that's been tying up Peter's insides.

"Look, Mr. Stark," he starts, and he puts his own hand on the note to make it stop twitching distractingly. Mr. Stark lets go, and it's like Peter just accepted it. And for all May grumbles about how much she shells out for new backpacks every month, Peter's aware he doesn't _need_ the money and it would be wrong not to let Mr. Stark know that. "Look, I'm not who you think I am, I'm-"

Mr. Stark looks at Peter sceptically, but attentively, and Peter suddenly realizes pity is probably the only thing making Mr. Stark talk to him at all. And he just can't not prolong this encounter. It's selfish, but in that split second it's beyond Peter to deny himself a little more time.

"I'm fifteen. So whatever reason you have to try and get in the news because you got, um, in an alleyway, it's probably not worth it," he says instead, feeling a little ashamed of himself, but not enough to regret the evasion just now. He said _a_ truth, anyway.

Mr. Stark gives Peter a sharp look, then his face goes through a complicated slide-set of emotions, from considering, to something uncomfortably close to disgust, which makes Peter squirm, then finally it settles on concern.

'That's... good to know," Mr. Stark says, and it sounds somehow ominous. "Do you have anywhere to sleep tonight?"

"Yeah, yeah, of course. I'm fine. Don't worry about me, Mr. Stark. Can we talk about something else? Like the Avengers? Is there a way to apply or is it just invite only?"

For a short but excruciating while it seems like Mr. Stark will continue to press him, but eventually he relaxes and starts chatting. Peter is between giddy with relief and just giddy. He's gossiping about Captain America's table habits with Iron Man. It's surreal.

By the time they get to the baklava Peter's guard is down, and when Mr. Stark casually asks Peter's name, it's only the fact his teeth are glued together with honey that prevents him from answering.

Which would be a very bad idea, because while he wanted to attract the attention of Mr. Stark as Spider-man, and of Stark Industries as Peter Parker, it would be a disaster to switch the two up. Because Peter is 100% sure Mr. Stark will not approve of a superhero who still has the leftovers of his 15th birthday cake in his fridge. Peter's general plan was to win respect enough to make Spider-man look like a worthy ally _before_ springing that entire irrelevant age thing on the Avengers.

"I'm, it's, I'm-" he begins stammering, eyes darting around for an inspiration for a suitable fake name. Except life isn't like The Unusual Suspects, apparently, because nothing useful stands out from the general surroundings. "I'm Beee-urrr-nard. Bernard!"

Mr. Stark's raised eyebrow very eloquently sums up his disbelief.

"Right," he says. "I'm not asking because I'm about to call the cops or CPS or whoever it is you're trying to avoid. I just want to be on an even ground. You know my name."

But as much as Mr. Stark is trying to play it cool, Peter can recognize an adult in a stealth protective mode. Aunt May has the same thing where she seems chill and amusedly curious about the bruise Peter acquired in school, while in fact she's drawing out the info from him like an expert and is mentally going through the epic scandal she's about to perform the next day at school, threats to sue and all, to make sure they treat bullying seriously.

So Peter jumps up from his chair like his ass is on fire, even though he's sure it's much too late and he fucked up too badly to get out of this one unscathed.

"I'm really not homeless, Mr. Stark. I was just dumpster-diving as a hobby. It's good to be environmentally conscious and-" Peter takes off mid-sentence. Mr. Stark shouts something behind him, but Peter's even faster when he's scared, and also glad he went rummaging so far from home this time. His backpack's on a roof near the alley but he can go back for it another day, just in case. After a couple of blocks, he realizes the hundred's still clutched in his fist, so he tucks it in the lapel of an old man sitting on the curb who looks like he could use it more. In passing, he sees himself in a shop window - a boy with a grimy face and a frayed hoodie - and isn't surprised at all by the hunted expression to match.

He can only hope Mr. Stark loses interest quickly.

**Author's Note:**

> Imagine I'm Peter and your comments are doner kebabs.


End file.
